The Deployment Diary

Friday, April 23, 2004

This is Normal?

Sunday (Day 222) night, it dawned on me that I'm comfortable. Not happy, not completely devastated anymore, but comfortable living alone. The thought struck me so hard, I had to sit down. I know, one the first sign that I'm going crazy.

I had put the babies to bed and came downstairs to retrieve the coffee cup off my desk to prepare for my nightly adventure of online surfing. My night starts by brewing coffee before heading upstairs for the babies' bedtime. That way, by the time I make it back down, I have hot coffee waiting and I can get a cup, head to the computer and read the latest and greatest in the blogosphere.

Sunday night, I retrieved the coffee cup, almost made it to the foyer when the thought of my being comfortable struck me. THIS is normal I thought. THIS is what I look forward to each evening. To surf blogs and see what perfect strangers that I care about, (regardless of whether I've ever shared an email with them or commented in their blog) are doing and saying about what they are doing and reading. THIS is normal. THIS is my routine now, I thought.

Prior to this, the coffee was made by my husband. His coffee is so much better than mine. After dogs were fed (me) and babies were bathed and put to bed (husband), we'd fill our cups and either sit in our matching recliners in the living room or sometimes on the front porch - and discuss our day.

These days, it's me and a computer screen. Visiting blogs to feel as though I'm having that nightly conversation of how days were - however one sided it may be. Smiling at some thoughts, wanting to yell a "YOU GO!!" after reading some, and shedding a tear for others.

And Sunday night, it was comfortable - normal. It was my life and what I anticipate each evening. I no longer expect to see him walk through that door - and it dawned on me, because after eight months, what would be strange, is if he DID walk through that door. And I cried.

I cried because my life seems routine without him. My life is his and he's not here - and he's not been here for so long I can't remember the last time I stared at the door trying to will him to come through it. Trying to find my hold onto the reality vacuum that it was, and not fly into despair because he isn't coming through that door any time soon.

Instead, it's normal, yet it seemed so not normal to feel that way. After all, I'm happily married, I'm loved by this man and I'm deeply IN love with him. He's everything to me and I thank God daily for us having met by chance and the wonderful, beautiful life I have because of our meeting.

I sat in the recliner and wondered - if this is normal, if this is routine, how will we get through those first weeks of being together and THAT not being normal to either of us? We've never lived an entire year apart. What changes haven't I gone through - I've changed so much it's easier to discuss what hasn't changed. What changes he has gone through after knowing young men that have lost limbs and best friends who are dead too young....and seeing starving children who beg for food and water. Children, little children who should be playing and enjoying being loved are instead begging for the basic necessities of life and this, to a man who loves all children, hits his heart so hard.

How much we've changed and to think he's going to walk through that door and things are just going to instantly go back to what once was is naive. And I got angry. Angry at me and my stupidity for not having considered the numerous ways we will be different and changed. And angry that people are barbarians and we have to go to war to begin with because they want us all bowing to their brutal assed god (no capital letter for god when referring to allah, sorry - not gonna do it) and the idiot clerics and terrorists and these murdering bastards. Angry at Bush for not having had our military kick the crap out of the entire country instead of sparing cities like Ramadi and Fallujah and not taking care of Sadr when he first opened his idiotic mouth and allowing him to grow and get headlines - when all it would have taken was one well placed sniper to give him the eternal sand nap he deserves the first time he opened his pie hole...

Then it was just me, my coffee cup and my favorite blogs as I wiped the tears, put away the anger and got back to my normal. Filling the coffee cup, making the trek back to the computer and checking in with friends I don't know, and wondering how it came to be that I sit here and he sits there and this is normal.

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